


i can't see you and i'm feeling just the same

by psychelock



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Youtube AU, trans otacon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychelock/pseuds/psychelock
Summary: The air was thick, to the point where Hal would rather breathe around the tobacco-infused air that came from David’s cigarettes.(A snippet from a modern/domestic/YouTube AU I've been developing with my friend!)Title from Red Vox's Stranded





	i can't see you and i'm feeling just the same

Worry.

 

Worry has been consistent the past few… For a while, to say the least. Anxieties were constantly creeping up on Hal, like a fly that just wouldn’t _bug off_ . He’s always had his own mental health on his back, his past haunting him continually. Mental struggles and bumps in the road were no stranger to a man like him. Yet, having _this_ on top of it all? It wasn’t doing him good; he wasn’t doing well at all.

 

The man he fell in love with was starting to become a shell of who he once was, fueled by coffee and cereal bars. Sometimes he’d find himself thinking about that once familiar shine in Dave’s eye when they shared a joke from years before… What he’d give to see that again was unimaginable. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Dave anymore… No, that would never happen, not in a million years. But when your partner, your _best friend_ , gets so caught up with working to the point it’s all he does— worry takes over.

 

He’s known Dave for what, six years by now? He’s gone from the warm, kindhearted, albeit stoic man he spent days and nights talking to through MSN, using those terrible hand-drawn custom emoticons to… _This_. A man so pressured by YouTube that the initial fun had been sucked out of it, only to be replaced with stress of consistency and quality. His sudden exposure and popularity had got to his head, and not in the vain way. No, this got to him to the point he’d stay up until the early hours, almost daily, just to finish editing videos. Putting on a facade for his subscribers, letting the mask fall as soon as the camera’s red LED fell to nothingness.

 

When he wasn’t distracted with video making, he’d go exercise for hours, pushing himself. Over the years, Hal had managed to get Dave cut down on his endless working out that had been driven into his skull by his father. Yet, as of recently, it was almost as if all that progress had vanished. Life ruled by video making and exercise. It worried him.

 

Hal had been trying to distract himself from his thoughts by editing the next video for his channel. The latest one had only just been uploaded two days ago, meaning he had just under a week to get this one done, but it never hurt to be too prepared, right…?

 

_Wrong._

 

That was the same thought process Dave was going through, being prepared is what has driven him that far. Being an overly prepared perfectionist was what was grinding Dave down to his bones, keeping him from sleep, keeping him from spending time with his partner.

 

Hal shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of the thoughts of Dave, even for just a few minutes. As much as he loved him, Hal needed to focus on something other than the constant anxieties eating at him. Video now, boyfriend later. Besides, he could hear Dave’s voice feintly from here, recording. Hal hated how good he was at feigning his true self, his voice sounded almost as full of life was it used to be, but it felt so… Cold. Empty. It wasn’t _truly_ Dave. With a heartfelt sigh and a silent prayer to Sony _(please don’t crash, Vegas)_ , Hal took deep breaths and looked back down at his laptop. Time to get back to editing.

 

By the time he snapped out of focus, Hal had finished editing. With a yawn, groan and a large stretch (paired with a few popped joints, naturally), he looked at the clock down on the bottom right of his screen. 01:53 A.M. Not the worst, not the best. Tilting his glasses up a tad, Hal rubbed at his eyes and shut down the computer after ensuring his work was saved. Content with everything, the laptop was placed on the coffee table next to the empty mug that once held hot chocolate— _nothing else soothes the nerves better_ , Hal would say.

 

Pushing himself up from the sofa chair, he set to the kitchen, used mug in hand. Hal placed it in the sink, filling it with water to clean properly in the morning. From the corner of his eye an untouched plate of spaghetti bolognaise can be seen, set out from many hours before. Dave still hadn’t taken his dinner, _again_ , and Hal knew he wouldn't be coming for it anytime soon. Hal walks towards the plate and disposes of the food, left out for far too long, and places the plate beside his used mug.

 

Knowing the food wasn’t touched, that could mean two things: Dave is still working on something, or Dave has fallen asleep at his desk. As much as he hated both options, and as much as he hoped it would be neither, he knew it wouldn't be anything but.

 

A tentative _“Dave?”_ was called out from Hal, knocking lightly at the office door. No response, not even a grunt. He slowly pushes down the door handle, before pushing forwards and stepping in.

 

There laid, or well, sat, a brown haired man, hunched over a desk. Hair a mess with a headset set atop of his head, and the beginnings of keyboard intents in his face. Like this, Dave looked at least five years younger, all the visible stress from his face was depleted. Cautiously, Hal softly padded towards the other. He knew waking Dave up would just make him want to continue, but it pained him to leave him like this. Becoming a widely recognised YouTube star wasn’t Dave’s goal in life, but here he was anyway, facing the stress of it all.

 

Carefully, Hal leaned over his partner and switched off his monitors before unplugging the keyboard and mouse USBs. No use in trying to move them, too clunky; too much noise. The least he could do was avoid unwanted input. This wasn’t the first time this has happened, far from it. It’s happened enough times for there to be a pillow and blanket in here waiting, just in case. The blanket was tucked around Dave and the pillow was ever so carefully slipped between his cheek and they keyboard.

 

Hal stood there for a moment just watching the other, thinking. This wasn’t healthy, he was sure Dave knew it. He must know from the constant reminders Hal gives him, which he used to follow. But the past couple of weeks… the past month? Either way, it’s gone downhill. He was scared. He hated to admit it, but he was truly scared. The worry and anxiety had warped into something worse and he just wanted to help, but he didn’t know how.

 

He wiped his eyes from under his full-moon glasses, and gave David a kiss on the top of his head. Hal squeezed the broad shoulder that was hunched beside him. Dave was right here, why was he crying as if he was gone? Silvery hair fell in front of his vision, his head casting forwards. He should go to bed, even if that meant being alone.

 

“Heh,” a short, choked chuckle; pathetic. Aimed at himself. “...Goodnight, Dave.”

 

And with that, Hal left the room, closing the door carefully to not make a sound.

 

—

 

Slowly waking up, Hal let out a small yawn, still under the spell of sleep. He was quickly drawn to reality from the slight weight he felt beside him on the bed, could that be Dave? Did he actually come back to bed? Rubbing his eyes, Hal scooched closer to the lump, reaching an arm out. His hopes fell once his palm hit the familiar soft fur and a soft dog-yawn was heard. War Criminal. As much as he loved David’s dog, Hal just couldn’t hide the pain the disappointment had on him, his chest felt heavy. The once familiar abode of warmth and comfort shared by somebody he loved rarely happened anymore. On the occasions Dave did make it to their bed, he felt distant. Despite being close, despite David being _right beside_ him, Hal never felt so alone during those nights. As much as he missed sleeping with the other, feeling like that was crushing. The tenderness of his dream slowly lifted, allowing his emotions to resurface. He sighed and sat up, untangling himself from the mess of bedding and pillows.

 

The bedroom door was still left ajar, albeit a tad more open thanks to War Criminal, from where he had left it _just_ in case Dave woke up and decided to home in. Unsurprisingly, that wasn’t the case. If Dave did wake up and didn’t continue working, he’d most likely be on the sofa, sleeping there.

 

He should really say something. Stop dancing around the topic.

 

Grey locks were pushed back as he combed through his hair with his fingers. A soothing motion, one of which Dave did, before everything got too much. _Man_ , he really did let it get to this point, huh?

 

A hop into the shower got him to really think over this entire situation. Hal didn’t know how much longer he could take of all this. No matter how much you love somebody, when they turn into a shell who’s only focused on their work… Well, he didn’t know how long _they_ could last. The two of them were as strong as steel chains, but with the way everything was going, it felt like the metal was bending, threatening to break at any moment.

 

Hal hissed as soapy suds fell into his eyes, so focused on thinking about how everything was that his actions became automatic, without thought. A quick panic followed by final a rinse and he stepped out of the shower, dabbing himself down with a towel. As much as he just wanted to go back to bed and sleep through this slump, something had to be done.

 

Pacing through his bathroom routine as quickly as he could— shower, dry, clothe his bottom half, apply coconut oil to his chest scars, brush teeth, brush hair, put a shirt on after the oil was dry. Not bothering to blow dry his hair, a quick rub down with a towel was good enough for now. Running back to the bedroom for his forgotten glasses, he then makes his way downstairs. Dave wouldn’t be up for at least an hour as yet, giving him enough time to mull over a coffee, to think about what he was going to say. Or so he thought.

 

As he made his way to the kitchen, the air was filled with the aroma of coffee— freshly brewed. His hopes for a while to sort through his thoughts were thrown away, only to be replaced with the sight of Dave— eyebags prominent, messy brown hair messier than usual, hand holding a glass mug full of coffee, deep and dark.

 

Hal was taken aback for a moment. His heart ached from the sight of Dave. He looked so dishevelled, almost devoid of his past self. Tears were beginning to form at his eyes: Hal couldn’t look at him. Feigning a yawn, Hal rubbed at his eyes to discreetly brush away the tears that threatened to fall.

 

“I’ve, uh, already fed War Criminal and your cat,” the gravelly voice was all you needed to hear to know just how exhausted Dave was. Gesturing to the still partially full cafetière, he spoke once more. “You can finish that off, I’m going back to work on more—”

 

“No.”

 

One stern syllable was all that was needed to slice into the thickly layered false sense of _okay_ and _perfectness_ that surrounded them. This wasn’t okay. They were far from perfect. His breath quickened, his heart began the race, anxieties were setting in. It felt like he was wading through thick mud, his mind heavy with static. Why did he speak, why did he say that, why, _why_ —

 

“Why?”

 

It was almost as if Dave was acting dumb, acting as if he had no clue so he could get away from the situation. He knew what was going, and knew it wasn’t great. He may not understand just how bad it was, but he was aware that this… This wasn’t good. Yet, he wasn’t ready to face that truth. Dave had gone from standing by the fridge to leaning against the kitchen island, slowly sipping his coffee, almost savouring it, looking away from Hal. He couldn’t tell quite what was going on, but he was unsettled.

 

Hal, on the other hand, still stood in the doorway, head tilted down and to the left. It looked like he was almost ashamed. One arm was bent, gripping the other, thumb toying with a loose strand of cotton from the sleeve of his t-shirt. Fragile, raw emotion radiated from his body— as if he was an old porcelain doll you weren’t allowed to touch. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but faltered. His mind was swimming, eyes were burning. It took him a few moments to, but eventually…

 

“I miss you, Dave,” the words were quiet, his voice cracking as he let out every word. Tears begin to slip down, Hal unable to fight them back any longer. “I miss you Dave, but you’re here. But you’re not, I, I…”

 

The grip on his arm was stronger now, his eyes cast over to Dave. There was no point, but he attempted to hold back more tears, failing immediately. They were running down now, one by one. Dave was confused, his expression was like that of a deer in the headlights. He was here, what on Earth was he talking about?

 

Another sip, and the mug was placed down. The taller of the two paced over tentatively, almost as if the floor would shatter beneath him at any moment of time. His brows were furrowed, his entire expression was mystified.

 

“Hal, what do you mean?” He stepped closer, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder, which was shrugged off almost straight away much to Dave’s dismay. He knew not to push it, though. Hal was rather particular about his personal space when he wasn’t feeling too bright: one of the many things he had noticed over the years. “I’m right here,  aren’t I?”

 

Frustration was bubbling within Hal’s thick, staticy mind. Too much was going on, too much, too much— why did he mention it? Why did he do this, he could’ve just shut up, let it carry on. They’d— he’d become adjusted to the change, it would become their normal and…

 

No.

 

This was something that needed to be sorted, now.

 

But if it was this bad, why did he feel sick with guilt? Why did the thought of continuing to talk make him feel like he was back in his old home— back with _her—_ back when he felt like, when he _knew_ he had to shut up and deal with everything. Back when life was a misery, back when he didn’t quite realise nor understand what was going on or how bad the situation was. Further panic set in. No. He wasn't going to relate Dave, this situation, to _then_. They could fix this, starting now.

 

“It’s like you’re not even here anymore, Dave. I- I’m worried, I… You’re so distant, you’re acting like _nothing_ has happened, like it’s all normal but you’re, you’re just stuck in that room, you barely come to _bed_ now, Dave!” Hal was beginning to sound like a broken record, his voice crackling and wavering beyond his control. Suppressed emotions were rising to the surface— this wasn’t good. A pause was taken to attempt to even out his breathing slightly, which was a jagged mess. Inhale, exhale. Hal looked into Dave’s eyes with uncertainty, his lip trembled slightly before he spoke. “...I miss you.”

 

And with that, everything came crashing down on David. He didn’t know how to respond to Hal’s sudden outburst— it was obvious this had been building up under the surface for the long time. Guilt clawed at him, his throat dry and itchy. This entire situation was far from his forte; Dave had never been one to understand emotions well, his own had the tendency to be more hidden. This left him to appear to have a more collected demeanor, one which made him seem almost uncaring in some circumstances. It was just how he was brought up. Emotions had no place is his childhood household.

 

This circumstance, though? This was one where he wanted the opposite the happen. He wanted— _needed—_ Hal to know just how much he cared about him. He needed Hal to realise that Dave didn’t mean for this to happen, didn’t want it to get this far, didn’t want him to feel like this. He didn’t notice just how much it affected the other, and now he was paying for it.

 

“Hal.” His voice was stern, firm. “ _I_ —” No, wait, he needed a moment to figure out what to say. This really, really wasn’t his area of expertise. He’d hate to admit it out loud— he never would— but he was scared. Scared of what could occur from this. Would they be okay, the two of them? Dave wouldn’t know what to do if this was the thing that would break them. Hell, he wouldn’t do what he’d do without Hal in general— he’s been around him for so long, being without him would be unnatural and… He should stop thinking about this. Stop thinking about the worst. This could be sorted out, right?

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The air was thick, to the point where Hal would rather breathe around the tobacco-infused air that came from David’s cigarettes. The heartfelt apology sounded foreign on Dave’s tongue— there was rarely the need for either of them to apologise, and when it happened, it sounded nothing like _that_. You could feel the raw emotions, the guilt, the regret, everything was spilling out in those two words. It just made Hal cry more, tears were rivulets down his face. With one shared look between them, Hal fell into Dave’s chest, who immediately wrapped his arms around the other— holding him close. Calming circles were drawn on Hal’s back by Dave’s large, calloused hand. They will be okay, won’t they?

 

They stood there for a few moments, Hal crying into the other’s shirt, his arms hanging at his sides. By the time Hal’s haphazard breathing levelled out to a more normal pattern, Dave’s t-shirt was soaked. The two of them pulled back (a protective arm slung over Hal’s shoulder remained), their eyes meeting once more. Eye contact spoke a million words, one pair red and damp, the other soft and guilt ridden— if you looked carefully, you could see the beginnings of tears that couldn’t be blinked away. Simply put, they were a mess.

 

“Dave—”

 

He was cut off by a quiet, soothing _‘shh’_. Without a word, Dave lead the two of them to the living room, arm still across Hal’s neck, his hand resting on the other’s shoulder. His other hand reached to his face to rub at his eyes, physically pushing back his tears. He hated crying. He hated being visibly weak.

 

Soon enough the two sat on the sofa facing each other, Dave taking one of his boyfriend’s hands and rubbing calming, reassuring circles on the palm with his thumb. The circles matched his breathing, or what he attempted to level it to. His other hand swept through his brown hair, grimacing at the slight grease buildup. Nevertheless, David took one deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled. Opening his eyes, he looked directly into Hal’s.

 

“Hal. You’re not blaming yourself for any of this, are you?” The only reply was the face of unease from the other, followed by a small, barely noticeable nod, which told him everything he needed to know: _yes_. Knowing this fact made his heart felt even heavier, which he didn’t think was possible. Looking to the side for a moment to compose himself, he chewed at his lip. He fucked up— big time. “Don’t. None of this is on you. I… Should’ve noticed I was spiralling downhill sooner. I should’ve stopped myself before I got to this point, I… I don’t know how I got here, Hal. I should’ve been better for you, for… For us.”

 

And with that, Dave couldn’t fight back his own tears anymore.

 

Dave couldn’t recall the last time he let himself cry. Not really, not _truely_ cry. He didn’t count the time where they first met— those were happy tears. These? These were tears filled with negative emotion, raw and painful. Years of pain built up, the recent influx of stress from YouTube— all compressed into now. He let out a choked sob, one that just wouldn’t stay back. He couldn’t let himself cry, he’s not allowed to. People like him aren’t allowed to cry. Even when he flew home from visiting Hal before they lived together, he somehow kept those tears back. Crying isn’t strong— he hated crying.

 

It always felt weird when their typical roles reversed— such as Hal cooking rather than Dave, or Dave attempting to figure out what was wrong with the ethernet wire and somehow fixing it. But this was an entire different realm. Hal covered the other man’s hand with his own, twisting the one in Dave’s grip around to the point where he could hold Dave’s hand with both of his own. Giving a squeeze, he looked at him and spoke.

 

“...Did you ever wonder why I ended up giving up with the fancy internship I got after completing my extended Uni courses?”

 

Dave’s blue eyes, damp with tears were flooded with confusion. “Huh?” Realising Hal was waiting for a reply, an actually reply the thought for a moment. “I guess to focus on your content more…? I don’t know why you’d leave for that, though.”

 

“That’s because I didn’t.”

 

“Oh.” Simply put, Dave was stumped. He had no clue where this conversation was leading, but at the very least, he was thankful for it. Speaking about something slightly different gave him a moment to compose himself.

 

“I didn’t really focus on my channel too much until I left the internship, actually. I, uh… Focused too much on my work. I just… Overworked myself to the point I wouldn’t sleep. I’d just continue working. It was a distraction, really, I… I didn’t give myself time to take in what happened after the whole uh, you know…” Breathe, Emmerich. You’re not back there, you’re not back in England, you’re home in America, you’re with Dave. You’re going to be okay, you both are. Dave knows what you mean, skip over it. “ _Situation_ . After all that I just finished college, went straight to uni and accepted the internship. I… I worked to the point I made myself physically ill, along with my terrible mental health… Just distracting myself from _myself_. Do… Do you see where I’m going with this?”

 

Oh.  
  
_Oh_.

 

That’s where it was leading.

 

Dave knew bits and pieces about Hal’s childhood, but similar to himself, his wasn’t the greatest to say the least. He knew Hal’s father moved them to England from America for some woman, he knew said woman wasn’t… Great. He knew about Hal giving up with the internship— one that people would kill to get a chance to get. He just never knew why he gave up.

 

And now he did. And now he realises how bad he truly got— _shit_. Dave tensed up with the realisation, joined with a sharp intake of air. He just wanted to fold into himself, to become so small he wouldn’t be noticed. Guilt hurt. Emotions hurt. Realising how bad his health has gotten hurt, too.

 

“Dave, look at me.”

 

His head snapped up to look at Hal’s tired, tear stained eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss away Hal’s pain— a lot of which was caused by him, and he hated the fact that this will be something he will have to accept. He’s hurt the person he cares about the most, the person who he loves the most. Will Hal ever forgive him? Dave knew he wouldn't forgive himself for this.

 

Hal’s eyes softened as he looked into the pair before him. Although this situation may not be to the same intensity to his own experience, nor have the same origin— but it didn’t change the fact it was strikingly similar. Hal had nobody to turn to back then, his uni friends dropped off the face of the Earth once he got the internship offer, his so-called father was dead, step-sister no-where to be found and step-mother? She could die for all he cared. His real mother was out in America somewhere, goodness knew where, though. He was alone— isolated— until he and Dave started speaking. It made him laugh how just one comment on one of Dave’s oldest videos lead him here— to live with Dave, to be with Dave, to be in love with Dave.

 

Because he loved him like he did, he refused to let Dave go through this alone.

 

“I… I love you, Dave.”

 

The tense atmosphere was shattered, those four syllables were all Dave needed for more tears to fall— _fuck._ He hated crying. A moment passes of Dave attempting to stifle more tears, but to no avail. Within seconds, instead of facing Hal from the other side of the sofa, he was in the other’s arms, leaning into his chest, just like the two had earlier— just reversed.

 

Protective, almost guarding, arms curled around the figure in Hal’s lap. It was a strange position for the two of them to be in, but a much needed one. Both of them had the bad habit of holding everything in for far too long, the habit of continuing on as if nothing was holding them back. As if their past never happened— like they moved on from it in a snap.

 

The thing is, it doesn’t work like that— trauma plagues you, even if you unconsciously repress it beyond belief. Hal knew that: he had learned that the hard way. Far too many nights were spent with breakdowns, powering through them with distractions, disconnecting himself from his mind. He refused to allow that continue now.

 

Soothing patterns of reassurance were drawn over Dave’s back during the strong embrace, Hal holding tight. Yeah, they’ll be okay. He was sure of it. Relationships— hell, even life itself— none of that was easy sailing. No part of existing will ever be a smooth road with no bumps. No, this was just one of those bumps (hills, maybe?) that the two would have to cross— together.

 

Leaning down, a chin rested on deep, brown locks. Hal— now feeling calmer than before— closed his eyes. His breathing matched how he rubbed at Dave’s back: in, hold, out, in time with the circling movements. He softly continued, words a mere murmur, but loud enough for the other to hear:

 

“No matter how deeply rooted all this is, I’m keeping with you, Dave.”

 

With that, the elder buried his head further, hands gripping at Hal’s sides. Despite knowing each other for so long— despite being together, a couple, for so long— a part of him still refused to believe that this was real, that Hal actually, really, truly did love him. He grew up knowing— no, _believing_ that people like him didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve love.

 

But he did.

 

Hal was proof of it.

 

The little life they’ve built together, the apartment they share, their pets— War Criminal and Trubbish, all the photos tacked to the walls, the dumb collab videos… All this just showed him how much he had. This realisation just made him curl closer to Hal, more tears falling. The fact he had upset somebody he loved just so Goddamn much when they had so much… it scared him that he was capable of doing so much damage without realising. Without meaning to.

 

“I didn’t… Realise. I didn’t realise how much I was screwing you up, Hal. I never realised how fucked up I am. You didn’t sign up for this, Hal, you… Don’t have to stay,” as much as that stabbed him in the heart— Dave felt like it needed to be said. “Don’t feel like you have to stay because we’ve had so much. Please, Hal.”

 

And now it was Hal’s turn to cry, once again. Did Dave really think he would leave him for this? Or was Dave thinking bigger, thinking about Hal’s wellbeing, too? Both scenarios made his heart ache. One thing was for sure, though.

 

“I’m not leaving. We’re going to make it through this, Dave. Through thick and thin, like we always said, back in the MSN days. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the amount of times we said that?”

 

Dave couldn’t help but laugh a little into Hal’s chest. Hal moved his head from where it was perched atop Dave’s, looking down at him and smiling.

 

“Hal, you say that as if we’re an old married couple.”

 

“We’re not too far from it, when you think about it,” a light, breathy chuckle. “Who knows, maybe we will be that a few years down the line…”

 

A content hum in response, he’d like that. Dave was comfortably laying down, his upper half laying on his boyfriend’s whilst their legs tangled. As peaceful as the two of them were in this position, they had started to dodge around the topic at hand. But for a few minutes, a pleasant silence was left, one that was content, comfortable. Homely. It had been a while since this had happened last— too long. However, it had also been too long that they had ignored the subject matter. This had to be spoken about. With a shaky breath, Hal broke the silence.

 

“You… We. We need a break.”

 

Immediately, the worst thing came to David’s mind: a relationship break. His heart sank as it sped up. The content, tender atmosphere had crumpled back up into tense panic. He tried to steady himself, his breathing— musn’t forget his breathing, four-seven-eight. Hal had told him about the pattern years prior, breathe out. His mind was foggy. And in, for four. The fog was starting to warp. Hold for seven. The fog was moving— fast, like ocean waves, crashing around, out of control. Out for eight. One. The fog was shaking. Two. It was almost disintegrating. Three. And it returned, before fading again. Four. It felt like it was fizzing, like TV static looked. Five. His hands were sweating, fingers felt uncomfortable gripping to Hal’s shirt. Six. He released his hands from the grip, his mind was noisy. Seven. The fizz was lifting. Eight. And it returned.

 

Dave sat there for a few moments, calming himself, not realising that Hal was trying to talk to him, hand on one of his sides, the other lost in his hair. Eventually, the static-y fog lifted, leaving only a mist in his mind.

 

Hal had been repeating Dave’s name, trying to pull him back. It had been a while since Dave last sunk into a short episode like that, and Hal felt riddled with guilt. “Dave I didn’t… Mean like…” he paused, making those very ‘Hal’ sounds, the sounds he made when he didn’t know what word to use— a mix between a grumble and a hum. “I didn’t mean like that. I meant from, y’know, uploading stuff.”

 

“Oh.” Panic over. Wait. No, not panic over— he needed up upload everything, and make enough content before he took a break and—

 

“Dave, look at me.”

 

The brunet tilted his head up, still using Hal’s body as a pillow. His eyes were red, stained with anxieties, panic and years of depression, riddled with unexplainable emotions.

 

“You… By the looks of things, you have a pretty hefty backlog. We could go somewhere for a few days, maybe a week, and they wouldn’t notice a thing.”

 

Dave hummed in agreement. For somebody with hair as grey as his, you’d think Hal was senile. His brilliance proved otherwise, along with, you know, everything else. Later twenties was a little older for most YouTube stars, sure, but he wasn’t that old yet!

 

“...It may do you some good to start looking for a therapist too, Dave,” he knew the other wasn’t going to like that idea much, but he had to try. “Even if you have to think on it for a while.”

 

Hesitantly, Dave nodded, moving back into the position he was in prior— comfortable in his partner’s embrace. Safe. He wasn’t keen on the idea of therapy, that was obvious with the many, many years he spent avoiding it. But… Considering Hal had been searching for one again recently, going through lots, looking for the right one…To say the least, the journey sounded discouraging. Yet this situation, upsetting Hal like he has, is something he’d never want to repeat; he’ll look for help. But for now, the two let the silence overcome them. Just sitting together in each other’s arms, listening to each other's breathing (or, in Dave’s case, his partner’s heartbeat).

 

“How’s Paris sound?” a sudden comment from Hal broke the silence that closed over them for a good five, maybe ten minutes. It was chirp, almost excited. Despite the two of them being together for so long— even travelling overseas to meet, even Hal moving over over to America to be with Dave— the two hadn’t been on an overseas holiday together yet.

 

Dave couldn’t help but let out a small, hearty chuckle as he opened his eyes to look up at his boyfriend. “I know you’re one for romance Hal, but that’s a _little_ stereotypical, isn’t it?”

 

He wasn’t wrong, Hal was ever the hopeless romantic. When they first moved together, Hal used to bring home flowers every week to set out on the kitchen island counter. He’d tell Dave throughout the week what each flower represent and why he chose it. As time moved on, it became one of the things they unintentionally dropped.

 

“Yeah,” The other couldn’t help but laugh a little after that comment, too. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. What do you think, then?”

 

“Hmm…” a hum softly rumbled from the older man. There were many places he’d love to visit with Hal, and being fluent (or, mostly fluent) in six languages really could make the experience nice— no awkward _‘do you speak X language’_ moments. France was too cliché for now, and keeping to European countries would be easiest. Russia would be completely out of the question, even if he was good at the language, it wouldn’t be great for the two of them. As he chopped down options, one stuck out to him.

 

“Italy?” he didn’t know Italian, but a lot of the Latin languages had similarities, he could probably stumble through a conversation. Read through an English-to-Italian dictionary on the plane, perhaps. “...It’s a beautiful country, from what I’ve heard. Plus, you have always been a bit of a foodie. Trying some genuine Italian cuisine would be nice.”

 

One of Hal’s hands had traveled from Dave’s back to deep into his brown locks. His hair was a tad on the greasy side, but he didn’t mind. Just playing around with his hair was therapeutic, helping with thinking. Dave let out a low, content sound in response— almost like a purr. Italy did sound good, and Dave was right about him being a foodie. Spending a week in a beautiful country with his beautiful boyfriend and eating delicious food with no worries on their mind? It was perfect.

 

“Yeah… I like the sound of that.”

 

He pauses for a moment. A holiday was something they needed, especially with Dave focusing so hard with all of his videos. On the other hand, Hal was worried that they’d put all this behind them and forget— even unintentionally.

 

But for now, laying on this sofa with his boyfriend in his lap, playing with his hair… This was good enough.

 

Besides, with those soft snores, Hal knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere.

 

They’d be okay. He’d make sure of it.

 


End file.
